Oregon Outback (2 page)

Invisible forces.

Evaluation. Debriefing. Decompression.

The bureau’s behavioral science unit had evaluated Special Agent Jonas Love all right. And … he’d endured the debriefing results.

Agent Jonas Love, you’re relieved of duty
. A megaphone blasted the words in his head again.

The Office of Professional Responsibility was conducting an internal investigation to see if Jonas was at fault. He’d turned in his creds and weapon.

And now, as Jonas sped over the sand dunes, gripping the handlebars of the quad … he decompressed.

A leave of absence. A minivacation. Whatever. The bureau was proactive when it came to covering their rears. To be fair, they wanted to protect their agents, too.

But if he was going to succeed at his current assignment—to decompress—he’d have to get a memory wipe. Was that too much to ask?

Sand dunes met the horizon in all directions. The guy at his brother’s ATV shop had assured him that Lucas was out there somewhere, taking a break from work, doing what he loved. Jonas had grabbed one of the rentals—the latest and greatest in high performance all-terrain vehicles.

A big rise, maybe thirty feet or more, loomed ahead. He juiced it, power shifting for the big push over the top.

At the crest, he launched into the air. Flying, he stood on the quad, his legs gripping the sides. Then he thrust his arms up, pulling a no-hander. He’d forgotten the exhilaration, the thrill.

Gravity yanked hard. The quad pulled away from him. The machine beneath him plummeting, he gripped the handlebars.

Sand rushed at him.

His muscles taut, expectant, he watched the ground loom larger. On impact, the four-wheeler bounced, jarring his body. Plumes of desert sand burst up, encircling him. The machine jerked forward almost leaving him in the dust.

Almost.

The whir of the engine underneath buzzed in his head. Barreling downhill, he picked up speed and nearly lost control. He slid to a stop. Heat penetrated his helmet. He pulled it off and wiped sweat from his brow, feeling the grime of wet, grainy dirt.

Another daredevil rushed over the hills. Jonas watched the guy take a big risk—side hilling on a steep dune. He was booking it too fast for Jonas’s taste. The quad teetered.

It’s going to roll
.

Jonas sent up a quick prayer. This guy reminded him of Lucas, always pushing the envelope. ATVs could injure or crush, but Lucas never cared. He wanted to live on the edge.

Ride on the edge.

At that moment, the quad tipped. The guy jumped off on the other side and made it to safety. He pumped his arm and gave a triumphant shout.

Jonas set his helmet on the quad’s seat and started toward the crazy man, waiting for him to pull off his helmet. Then Jonas would know with certainty that it was …

“Lucas!”

While Lucas stared, Jonas trudged across the deep sand, resistant to his every step. By the time he reached Lucas, he was beyond winded.

Jonas bent over his knees, catching his breath. “You couldn’t meet me halfway?”

A huge smile plastered his brother’s face—the one that always got the girls. “Jonas!” He grabbed him like a bear.

Jonas returned the hug, thankful to see his brother again. He admitted that he’d stayed away for too long.

Lucas released him. “Dude. I can’t believe it’s you. What’re you doing here?”

“You’re not glad to see me?”

“Sure. You could have called or something. Then I would have cleaned the place up for you.” He grinned.

“Yeah, right.” Jonas moved to the quad. “So, you’re into quad tipping now, is that it?”

“Hardly.” He positioned himself to roll the ATV again. “Okay. On three.”

Jonas came to his side and put his hands under the vehicle. “One, two, three …”

They pushed together. The quad rolled over again, and the sharp incline kept it rolling. At the base of the dune it stopped upright. Lucas had been lucky to escape.

He sucked in a breath. “Another one bites the dust.”

“You think it’s ruined?” asked Jonas.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I need to make sure it’s completely safe for the next rider. It’s a rental.” Lucas grabbed his helmet and straddled the vehicle he’d just expressed uncertainty over. “How long are you here for?”

“I’m not sure.” Jonas pulled on his helmet and fastened it, then opened the throttle wide, spraying a rooster’s plume behind him.

For the moment, he felt alive and savored it. He knew only too well how quickly a life could be snuffed out. He was still reeling that a member of his team had been killed during an FBI raid he’d led, along with an innocent victim.

His evaluation and debriefing had been hard enough, but he was beginning to believe he’d chosen the wrong place to regroup.

He’d never gotten over Darcy.

The whir of another quad zoomed past. His brother waved, then turned performer with his personally directed freestyleriding act.

He hoped by now that his younger brother had grown up, taking life more seriously. On the other hand, maybe Lucas was living every minute to the fullest. Before Jonas could decide which was true, he pulled into the parking lot of Oregon Adventures, Lucas’s ATV business.

He followed his brother to the side of the building to return both quads. Lucas explained to the mechanic what had happened with the ATV he’d ridden.

The man shook his head. “Another one?”

Lucas ignored the mechanic and focused on Jonas. “Seriously, you never told me how long you’re here for. I mean, do you have time to get some lunch? Or are you staying longer?”

Jonas’s stomach rumbled. “Lunch is good for starters.”

Lucas led him to his apartment at the back of the building.

When he spotted Jonas’s motorcycle—a royal blue Suzuki Hayabusa—he released a low whistle. “I’d be tempted to max it out. Two hundred fifty miles an hour, right?”

“Something like that.” Jonas grinned.

“And you still have your license?”

“What makes you think I’ve driven over the speed limit? That would be breaking the law.”

“Why have such a beautiful thing if you can’t experience it to the fullest? When can I take her for a ride?”

“When you convince me you won’t kill yourself.”

In the kitchen, Lucas made tuna fish sandwiches. He spoke around his mouthful. “So why are you here? Some case you’re investigating?”

Jonas’s appetite fizzled at the words. “Taking some time off. Thought I’d hang out here, if that’s all right.”

Lucas stopped chewing, his left cheek stuffed. He took a swig of a soda then swallowed. “What? You didn’t get fired, did you?”

Jonas leveled a frown at Lucas. “Like I said, I’m taking a break.”

He looked at his plate. Instead of a sandwich he saw an agent’s body—the death, his fault. Maybe he’d never been cut out for that type of work. Maybe he would become a private investigator instead, though there wasn’t much call for that in a small town like this. Rumors and gossip took care of things, bringing them into the open.

“What about Darcy? You’re going to see her, right? Her dad died last week. Did you know that?” Lucas wiped his mouth.

“Yeah. I went to the funeral.”

Lucas’s eyes grew wide. “You did? Then you saw her already. And where have you been all this time? The ranch?”

“Carver says hello.”

Lucas frowned. He never got along with Carver, their older brother. “And Darcy?”

“I didn’t talk to her.” Jonas finished his soda and crumpled the can.

Enough time had passed that they both should have moved on. Yet he’d done nothing but watch her at the funeral. On the grimmest of days, he’d wanted to console her. Instead he stood back, keeping his distance out of respect. Her father had kept them apart, and she’d abided by that. Jonas couldn’t just walk back into her life the day her father was buried.

Jonas had been a senior in high school when her father had come to see him. He’d gotten into the wrong crowd. Darcy’s father had given him the sort of talk only a father would give a troubled teenager. Jonas’s own father had died in a ranching accident two years before, leaving behind four sons. His mother, eight years before that.

Jonas had taken her father’s words to heart and made something better of himself. For her. But he doubted she even knew about it. At least he’d seen Pastor Nichols in the hospital before he died, during a moment when Darcy hadn’t been there. Jonas owed him everything and told her father how he’d changed his life, keeping the recent events to himself.

Pastor Nichols’s regret-filled eyes had brightened a little.

His next words to Jonas could change his life again. Darcy’s father made Jonas promise to watch over his daughter. The only problem—Jonas wasn’t sure if he was up to the task.

Nor was he sure that Darcy would be happy to see him.

H
er first day back at High Desert Art since the funeral—another Monday had come and gone. Julie, her summer help, had manned the place during Darcy’s absence. Returning so soon had been more taxing than she’d expected.

She locked the door of the shop, then picked up a burrito at Taco Bell, despite the abundance of food well-meaning people had brought to the house.

A huge burden had been laid at her feet upon her father’s death. She surveyed the contents of a home filled with thirty-five years’ worth of things collected by her parents—it all now belonged to her, at least after probate. Her father had opted to own his own home, choosing a housing fund rather than a parsonage, in case something happened to him. Even a small estate probate could take several months, but she doubted it would take long considering her father’s debts were paid, and she was an only child.

How would she ever go through everything? That task alone could take her years. She slumped into her father’s leather chair to eat her burrito. Her thoughts turned again to the news Emily had shared with her on Saturday. The man standing next to the old juniper during her father’s funeral had been Jonas, after all. She’d wanted to believe her imagination had conspired to work against her.

Too much was coming down on her at once.

Escape seemed impossible.

But she had to try. She put the sign on her gift shop door today, telling the world it was for sale.

The doorbell rang. Darcy jumped up and surveyed her appearance in the mirror. Not good. She wore the raggedy but comfortable gray sweats she’d changed into when she got home. Her hair fell in limp strands around her face, tanned from her hang gliding excursion on Saturday. Also not good. She needed to be pale and mournful or the gossips would say she hadn’t grieved her father’s death.

The visitor was probably another little old lady wanting to give Darcy her condolences. When would people finally leave her to grieve alone?

Darcy knew all the casseroles on her kitchen counter and stuffed in the fridge were meant to reassure her, but she also knew that many a woman had wanted to garner the widowed pastor’s attention. Darcy wasn’t the only one feeling the loss.

A thought rushed by in a gust. Was it Jonas? Darcy’s palms grew slick. Hating her feral thoughts, she shook her head. If he’d wanted to see her, he would have spoken to her at the funeral. He’d had a week since then to contact her. No, Jonas had left her behind without looking back, then and now.

Forgotten.

She yanked the door open. “Emily. What a relief.”

Darcy pulled her friend inside then quickly shut the door.

“See, this is exactly what I was afraid of.” Emily looked Darcy up and down. “You went hang gliding. Your first time in months. That’s good, but aside from that, you’ve buried yourself in this dark and depressing dungeon of a home.”

“You forgot. I went back to work today, too.” Leaving her friend to stand in the foyer alone, Darcy returned to her father’s chair and wrapped her legs underneath. “I have to grieve, and to think. It takes time.”

Emily scrunched up her nose. “What is that smell?”

Without waiting for an answer, she sauntered into the kitchen. From where Darcy sat, she could see Emily lifting foil on various casserole dishes. “Someone expected you to eat all this?”

Her best friend had given her the space she’d needed. Maybe Darcy should have allowed her to stay at the house like Emily had wanted.

“Help yourself.”

“You could have shared some of it before it went bad.”

“There’s some in the fridge that’s still good, if you want.”

“Later.” Emily came back into the living room and plopped on the beautiful sofa. She ran her hand over the fabric. “I don’t think I ever sat on this.”

“That’s why it’s still in perfect condition. Mom never let anyone but guests sit there, otherwise it was covered with plastic. Dad continued the ritual. I ripped off the plastic because of everyone stopping by, but never put it back.”

Emily stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m not exactly dressed.”

“I’ll wait. I’m taking you out for some fun.”

“I can’t have fun so soon after Dad’s funeral.”

“It’s all over town you went hang gliding. You don’t need to hide anymore.”

Darcy frowned, knowing that other news was probably all over town as well. Why hadn’t Emily asked her about the store?